More Wealth, More Art

Bon jour, mes amies.
It was a bit cooler today with a fresh breeze--a good walking day, and yet I am not as young as I used to be, and I do get tired.
After I took the trash out and did my recycling and grocery shopping, I hopped the Metro.  This is my method.  If I can avoid transfers I do.  Guidebooks note the nearest Metro stop for any site, and if I can get there directly then great, but if not I get as close as I can, because walking in Paris is good! So I hopped off line 7 at Pont Mairie and wandered the Marais for a bit looking for the Musee de Cognacq-Jay.  My experience yesterday put me in the mood for more luxurious living by the less than one thousandth of a percent.
Ernest Cognacq, the business tycoon and founder of  La Samaritaine department store married Louise Jay.  Old time Paris watchers will remember La Samaritaine, the Belle Époque center where everyone in Paris shopped until the building was deemed unsafe and the store closed.  Apparently the building has been repaired or retro fitted or whatever and is being repurposed.
M. Cognacq wore his Philistine credentials proudly, but nevertheless he and his wife managed to amass a nice collection.  The museum used to be free, and more fun.  But I enjoyed the furnishings, in particular some lovely tea sets that I intend to shift over to the Jacquemart-Andre for when I move in along with some exquisite marquetry tables, and if I have too many--well then, I'll pass some out, won't I.  Everyone can use a nice little tea table, right?  And how could there be any objections?
I had to dodge around to look at the paintings because a group of women were there making sketches.
Then I moved on to the newly reopened Picasso Museum.  I have mixed feelings about old Pablo.  I appreciate that he continually reinvented himself as an artist with new styles, and I find some of his works powerful and very compelling.  People forget the dude could draw like Raphael were he so minded, but he thought representation played out and turned his considerable skill to other methods. But in other works I can see him just noodling around--or in his later work--run dry and living off his reputation.  I'm afraid I have no taste for his sculpture.  The mansion the museum is housed in is worth seeing on its own account.  It was not crowded when I was there, but it seemed that the staff was braced for an onslaught of tourists.
After that I strolled down to the National Archives and wandered around, but the history museum would not be open until much later, so after enjoying the courtyard and the gardens, I moved on to the Bizarre de Hotel de Ville known as BVH. It is a big department store and more for regular people than Printemps or Galleries LaFayette or Bon Marche across the river.  Oh yes, there are luxury brands and deep pocketed tourists, but also the kind of merchandise I love snooting around in order to get a sense of the similarities and differences of the way of life here compared to my own.  In particular I like looking at kitchen wares.
I came across an offering of products from the United States and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Cans.  Tomato soup.  Beans.  Chips.  Some industrial peanut butter.  I guess for French folk who can't get enough of the ubiquitous McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken.  I hardly live in a tourist area and my local McDonalds is always packed, but so are other French fast food chains.
Yesterday I bought some premium extra V olive oil and today used it to dress some pasta.  Ooh.  Luscious.  And I thought a couple of macarons from Laduree would go down well.  I bit into a chocolate one that was like biting into crisp fudge if you can imagine such a thing with a creamy finish.  Then I had a pistachio.  Now I am not a particular fan of the nuts, but somehow the flavor in the macaron is a transcendently tasty sensation.
A demain